


Powertrip

by ClearAutumnVibes



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, His right hand is literal, I blame live chat, I know what I'm doing but not really, M/M, No Beta We Die Like Philip, Powerbottom King George, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 09:12:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19315120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClearAutumnVibes/pseuds/ClearAutumnVibes
Summary: A letter from Samuel Seabury gives King George the much needed confidence to go through with his own reply. As well as something to think about when he *cough* relaxes that night.





	Powertrip

King George scowled as he regarded the most recent report from the colonies. Unrest is always so tedious. Still, there was another letter… He opened it. The first thing he thought when he saw it was how cute it is. The handwriting is in a delicate script, italicised and clean with not a single blot on it. The second thing he noted was the name, Samuel Seabury.

The more he read on the more he was intrigued. It was close enough for him to view it as a fan-letter. (Whether or not fan-letters were a thing back in the 1700’s, he claims madness.)

_‘Dear King George III of the United Kingdoms,_

_UwU Senpai, you do so much work but nobody likes it! How mean~ I’m not like them though, I love what you do. You put so much effort into what you do! Don't listen to those baka nay sayers, you're handsome and elegant. So very Kingly, my country doesn't deserve such a man! You’re so amazing and smart! I wish I was in English so that I could go to your house and work for you there! You avoid trying to have chaos and bloodshed and I wespect you fow that OwO. You always try to lead us with so much honesty! I heed not the rabble of these bakas. They're so shameful ;^; but I have your interest at heart. So much so, that I’ll preach about you and your glory on Monday, 1:30 pm, in that one square you like, next week!_

_Signed,_

_Sammy Seabuwy.’_

He was…Touched, by such a letter. Though half of it was language that should not be around at the time period, not to mention that it would be described as ‘Cringe worthy’, it still made him feel warm. Keeping the letter, he decided to look back at it at a later date.

(Preferably with a bottle of olive oil, his framed map of the United States of America and dimmed candle light.)

His good feelings carried throughout the day, powering his every action with more confidence than any of his subjects had seen in a while with all this dreadful news. The guards wondered what made him so happy but decided against thinking about it. There were a lot of eccentricities their king has but well, what can you do?

Later that day, when King George looked over the letter again, he decided to pen his own message. As he wrote it, he thought about having his messenger sing it, loud and proud. Oh, that would be a nice touch. After all, who doesn’t love a good song?

Before he knew it, the letter was written and his chosen messenger was able to sing it with proper tune, expression and vocalization.

If only they had videos and voice message, then the entirety of his colonies would know how much he loved them, singing songs meant for them by yours truly! (Again, he claims madness for knowing these things.)

“Of you go then, I want it to be sung after Samuel Seabury finishes his preachings about me. It will be on Monday, 1:30 pm, in that square I like so much.” King George dismissed the messenger.

With the doors now shut, he grinned. Oh this is great! Now that his work for the day is over, he retired to his bed chamber, his mind now set on _relaxing_.

 

.

 

He first began to prepare what he needs. A bottle of olive oil, a rather phallic look varnished wood of smooth make, his framed map of the U.S.A, and dimmed candle light. Once it was all ready, he closed his eyes.

_You’re so amazing and smart!_

The sentence from the letter flashed in his head. Yes, he was deserving of such praise. And he can’t help but lament the brevity of the letter.

He slowly, teasingly, dropped down his heavy cloak. The dark red satin crumpling on the floor, like the blood of those that defy him.

Then he began to undo his shirt, hands roaming, brushing up against sensitive spots on the body. His nipples, hardened and pink like the forbidden fruit he is.

_I love what you do!_

He could almost imagine the adoring eyes of his fan. The voice coaxing and cheerful, a brilliant smile that outshines the sun, he shuddered when his top came off, barring his body to the cold air of the night.

Hands roamed, over the boundaries of the cloth where he was very much sensitive, brushing against it causing him to gasp. He moved to the top of his pants, finger tips ghosting before finally taking it off. Finally, he was as nude as the day he was born. He crawled onto the bed, as if teasing an audience that isn’t there. His slow, graceful movements lead him on his back, the smooth silk sheets adding to the teasing sensation on his body.

His breath grew harsher as he imagined the voice of his fan. Is it light and high? Soft and meek? Low and hushed?

_You’re handsome._

He could imagine the murmur of those words, his hand moving to brush against his inner thigh. It’s light, almost reverent and afraid to touch him.

_And elegant!_

His lips tingled as he imagined being kissed. He could imagine it so clearly now. The kiss would be chaste. Every move would be an act of worship as the fan trailed kisses and butterfly kisses over his body before finally hovering above his throbbing need with hesitance. He would then order him, like the king he is, to suck it.

The fan with his permission, would take him, warm mouth sucking and licking like a starving man.

In place of a mouth that wasn’t there, his right hand did the job. His fingers lightly grazed the bottom to the tip before taking it fully in his hand, the olive oil warming skin where a mouth would be.

He groaned at both the sensation and the image in his head.

Yes. His fan would think of his pleasure before his own. His hand would graze and touch his chest, lightly pinch and roll around his nipples. Then before he would spent, he would demand him to focus on his well-formed bottom.

A hand would move, cupping his cheek while he worked on his backside. A tongue would poke and prod, sliding over and in. The very tongue that spoke praises would be used to prepare him for what is to come.

His hand had long left to follow along the fantasy (for what else could this be?), going over, circling, teasing before finally entering.

The tongue would pump in and out upon his order. His adoring fan would watch his face, searching for his approval with every pump. And he, he would give it as his fan would be more than satisfactory.

_~~My country~~ _ _I do not deserve such a man!_

He would say when he gives him to order to put it in. The man would be breathless from his work and he would demand for him to kiss him while he entered.

His hand reached for the wooden phallus, gently easing it in as he imagined the harsh panting of his partner alongside his own. His lips tingled once more as his fan lost himself to the sensation, kissing him harder and stronger than he said so. But he let it slide because he wanted it anyway and his loving fan delivered.

Once it is fully in, he squirmed, as if not used to the fullness. His fan would ask him, so eager to please, if he may move.

He would deny him out of both a sick power trip and because he was still adjusting to the sensation of being full.

Then, when his partner murmured praise, ( _Beautiful.)_ he would tell him to move.

He would tell him to move slowly at first, not wanting to rush it even when his fan looked blue in the face from having to hold back.

His hand pumped it in and out, slowly. His breathing grew relaxed as his partner continued to shower him with words of adoration.

_As my king says. Oh my King, you are so gorgeous. My King, you’re so tight and warm._

He would then demand for him to go faster, the sound of skin slapping on skin so obscene with his own harsh panting he would demand for him to go faster. Faster and faster until he could feel sweat on both of them. Yet even then he is still praised for it.

_My King, you’re scent is like a rose. So sweet and intoxicating._

He can feel tears in his eyes as his hand struggled to keep up the pace, either going too fast or too slow. His fan would have the same problem and then he would demand him to pick a pace and stay steady on it.

_I do not do you justice, my king!_

His hand kept a steady pace and his other hand moved to brush against his dripping member.

In his mind, his fan is still servicing him with the worship of a deity. Mouth moving to suck on his neck, on his chest, to lick on his nipples and roll it between teeth. His hands would move to pin him at his order, his touch strong yet weak enough for him to pull away.

He can feel his completion and he demands to his fan.

_Come on my signal._

_Yes my king, your commands are my gospel._

_Faster. Go the fastest you ever been._

_Yes my king. You are so benevolent and kind. Oh my king, you bring me such pleasure and joy!_

His hand went faster and his other lay forgotten as it curled in the sheets.

As he peaked, he told his fan, _you may come._

His fan would groaned and moan, bending over him and gasping right next to his ear. _Thank you my king. You are so loving and kind._

They would both be catching their breaths and he would tell his fan to pull out. Then they would enjoy the aftermath together. Their breath moving to catch up, as he looked at the map of the U.S.A, he smiled.

Soon, he’ll remind the country on why he is their king and put them back into their place.

**Author's Note:**

> There was a stream of old Hamilton animatics that I used to love. The live chat happened to be full of fun people and well, we ended up with a new headcannon, Power Bottom King George! I hope you enjoyed reading this (side eyes the live chat). I never wrote a power bottom before, so...


End file.
